


A Bowl of Cherries

by pogopop



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: AU - Foggy is a greengrocer, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Community: daredevilbingo, Daredevil Bingo, Don't copy to another site, M/M, cherries, cherry picking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 21:14:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17352713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pogopop/pseuds/pogopop
Summary: Matt is Foggy and Theo’s best customer. He comes in two, three times a week, running his dexterous fingers over the fresh produce Foggy offers to him, sometimes lifting it to his face to smell the freshness. Theo usually makes himself scarce, watching from the corner of his eye as Foggy plies Matt with the latest, most lustrous cucumber or pepper. Foggy considers it a challenge, keeping his most discerning customer satisfied.





	A Bowl of Cherries

**Author's Note:**

> This is a shameless piece of fluff. I got the idea a couple of days before Christmas, when I was picking cherries and looking at the contrast between the fruit and leaves. That's the entire premise for this. And it also conveniently fills the 'I'm delicious' square on my bingo card.
> 
> Thanks to sleepyMoritz for the beta read.

When Matt Murdock bites down on the dark flesh of the cherry, Foggy Nelson is frankly amazed that his heart doesn't stop. Instead, he offers Matt a napkin for the pip, and tries to remember to breathe. Matt smiles, stubbly and beautiful, and Foggy just keeps breathing and rings up the till when Matt says he'll take a pound.

 

Matt is Foggy and Theo’s best customer. He comes in two, three times a week, running his dexterous fingers over the fresh produce Foggy offers to him, sometimes lifting it to his face to smell the freshness. Theo usually makes himself scarce, watching from the corner of his eye as Foggy plies Matt with the latest, most lustrous cucumber or pepper. Foggy considers it a challenge, keeping his most discerning customer satisfied.

 

Today, Matt is sampling the first batch of cherries. It’s early summer and shaping up to be a warm day. Foggy is a little reluctant to offer Matt the fruit, as it was picked two days ago, but the pair he hands over is the freshest he can see.

 

“These are fabulous, Foggy.”

 

Foggy beams in return. “Well, I'm delicious! Oh god. I mean, isn’t all my food delicoius?” he stammers. Matt smiles again, going crinkly around his eyes. Theo looks like he’s holding back a laugh. “Those are from Wednesday, but I’m going to the farm early tomorrow morning so we’ll have a fresh batch here by lunchtime.”

 

Matt’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “You’re going yourself?”

 

“Mmm-hmm,” Foggy replies, counting cherries onto the scales then transferring them to Matt’s string bag, laying them carefully on top of the carrots and lettuce. “Our regular delivery driver is sick, plus it’s nice sometimes to get out of the city.” Matt makes a non-committal noise in return, and digs a folded bill out of his pocket.

 

“Sounds like a good way to spend a Saturday,” Matt says, almost wistfully. Foggy narrows his eyes at Matt. “I’ve never actually been beyond Manhattan.”

 

Foggy’s hands pause in the action of retrieving Matt’s change. “You’re joking!” he says, genuinely shocked.

 

“Umm, no?” Matt replies, uncertain. Foggy notices that he has both hands wrapped around the handle of his cane, a thumb flicking the cord. “I don’t think it’s all that unusual.”

 

Foggy shrugs and returns to counting Matt’s change. “I guess not. I just grew up upstate and need to get out of the city from time to time, away from the smog and noise.”

 

Matt gives a half smile. “I can see the appeal.” He holds out a hand and Foggy counts the change onto his palm. He stows the change in his pocket then takes the bag and slings it over his shoulder, the contents resting alongside his leather briefcase. “Thanks, Foggy.”

 

He turns to go, cane extended in front of him, and the low, early light shafts across his face, making his glasses glow ruby red and Foggy’s mouth speaks without his permission. “Do you want to come with me?”

 

Matt stops, pivoting back towards Foggy. Foggy squeezes his eyes shut and holds his breath, mentally berating himself for being an utter dork. “Come? With you? Where? Have you got an illicit potato trade that I don’t know about?” Matt sounds vaguely amused.

 

Foggy lets his breath out in a huff, opening his eyes again. “Wouldn’t you like to know. No, I mean come for the drive to the farm tomorrow. The pickup isn’t the most comfortable but it’s okay, and you can pick your own cherries while I’m loading up.” Foggy is the most idiotic, lovesick fool, and Matt’s about to laugh in his face. He waves a hand dismissively. “Never mind, I’m sure you’ve got plans.”

 

To his surprise Matt lifts his eyebrows, mouth turning down in consideration, head cocked to the side. Then he shrugs and grins, startlingly bright. “Why not? And no, I don’t have plans. Sounds like fun. What time are you leaving?”

 

Theo has clapped a hand over his mouth, and disappeared red-faced into the back room. Foggy scrabbles for a pen and paper to jot down Matt’s address and number, and Matt assures him he’ll be on the pavement outside his building at 4:30 the next morning.

 

And he is, when Foggy pulls up in the old, rattly pickup. Foggy’s used to seeing Matt in his lawyer’s suits, and he looks a lot more relaxed, freer, in jeans and a henley, but the glasses and cane are the same. Matt folds up his cane and slides it onto the dash. As they cross darkened Inwood Hill Park Foggy says, “This is it, buddy, leaving Manhattan for wild adventure!” And Matt throws back his head and laughs. As they head north on I-684 Foggy tells Matt that he, Theo and Candace grew up on the family farm and Candace runs it now, while he and Theo manage the retail side of the business.

 

Foggy explains that he left school at 18 and went to work for his parents. He learned to drill and harvest, smelling the soil and watching the rain fall and bud burst. He learned to balance accounts, to keep stock fresh and beautiful, and he learned the best times to pick, to get the best flavours and colours. He describes his parents’ doubt at opening a grocer’s in the city, and can’t hold the pride from his voice when he tells Matt they’ve been open 7 successful years now.

 

Matt’s not particularly forthcoming on such subjects as childhood and family, but tells Foggy that he’s Hell’s Kitchen born and raised, and that his law partner is a slightly shark-like Columbia classmate. “I think you’d like her, though. She’s good people.” Foggy says he’ll take Matt’s word for it.

 

The drive passes quickly with easy conversion, that makes Foggy feel like he’s known Matt forever, not just two years of flirtation over broccoli. The sun is peeping through trees by the time they turn off the highway and travel down minor roads for a few miles, before bumping down the driveway. They pull up in the yard outside the packing house, and Foggy kills the engine and announces, “You have reached your destination,” in a robotic voice, making Matt laugh again. They swing down from the cab and stretch, Matt extending his cane and tapping experimentally at the gravel. Foggy walks around the cab and pauses beside Matt, saying “C’mon, this way. Coffee time.” Matt reaches out a hand and touches Foggy’s arm, his hand skimming down to grasp Foggy’s elbow, and they walk across to the break room door.

 

Candace is inside, seated at the table and scowling at a clipboard, tapping her pen on the tabletop. She looks up when they walk in, Matt half a step behind Foggy, and her face smooths out into a smile. “Good morning, Fogster.” She gets up and comes over to give him a soft, warm hug. Then she pulls back and says, “And you must be Matt,” giving Foggy a sideways smirk that reminds him horribly of Theo. Traitor.

 

Matt smiles and offers Candace his hand, then says, “It’s nice to meet you, Candace. Thanks for having me to visit.” She waves away his thanks and returns to her seat, picking up her pen. Foggy shows Matt to the table then catches up with Candace on forward orders, weed management and sowing plans while he busies himself with the coffee machine and slides bagels into the small oven. Matt pulls out his phone and puts in an earbud and starts scrolling, clearly giving them some privacy. Foggy taps him on the shoulder then puts his coffee on the table, and Matt slides his hand forward to find it, giving Foggy another of those sweet smiles and Foggy feels a drop and swoop in his belly.

 

Game plan in place, Foggy puts the hot bagels on the table and starts smearing his own with cream cheese. There’s the crunch of gravel as the staff start arriving for the day, and Candace gets up, pulling on her wide-brimmed hat and stuffing a bagel in her mouth as she rolls out the door. “Make sure Matt signs in,” she calls over her shoulder, and Foggy grabs the health and safety folder.

 

Foggy’s favourite crop has always been the cherries. The contrast of the shiny, dark red fruit against the bright green, serrated leaves, sun warmed and perfect and bursting sweetness across his tongue. He takes Matt to the cherry grove with a picking basket, a ladder and a couple of bins. Matt passes his hand lightly through the leaves then reaches out to touch the trunk, running his hand up the rough bark and along the branch, marvelling at how much fruit is hanging from the tree. Foggy shows Matt how to pick the stalk with the fruit, explaining that the ripest fruit will drop with a gentle touch. Matt’s hands are elegant and nimble, skating across the drupes and gently teasing off the ripest fruit. Everything that he picks is dark and rich. “Will it stain?” he asks, and Foggy tells him that his sneakers will never be the same. Matt grins again, and pops a dark fruit in his mouth.

 

Foggy decides that this is an opportune moment to extract himself before things become truly embarrassing. Matt assures him that he’ll be fine on his own, so Foggy returns to the packing shed to start loading the pickup. Other trucks have arrived, with orders for local shops, but Foggy knows that Candace will always reserve the best for the store bearing their family name.

 

An hour and a half later he’s locked and loaded, the tarpaulin pulled over the crates of vegetables and fruit on the back of the pickup with one corner left spare for the cherries. He walks back over to the orchard, a flask of coffee in one hand and two mugs in the other. Matt’s seated form is just visible leaning against the other side of a tree, hands dangling loosely over his tented knees, face tilted up. As Foggy comes closer he tips his face forward and turns to the side, clearly listening to Foggy’s approaching footfalls. Foggy moves the planks off the edge of the bird net and slips underneath. “Hey, Matt,” he says, and drops down beside him on the grass. “Coffee?”

 

“Please,” Matt replies. The bins are full of cherries, shiny and perfect, and Matt’s fingertips are stained dark purple. Foggy pours the coffee and passes Matt a mug then stretches out on his side with his own, and looks up through the leaves, tiny scraps of blue sky visible above, twinkling in and out of sight as the leaves move. “It’s so quiet,” Matt says, after a few minutes.

 

Foggy can hear the tractor in the distance, but no cars zooming past close to them. No sirens. There are birds, a low drone of insects. It’s utterly different from the city, and frankly, he feels more comfortable here. He tries to imagine what it would be like to grow up in a concrete jungle, without space to run or trees to climb. His memories of a childhood of muddy knees, catching cockabullies in the creek, is charmed. He knocks back his coffee and rolls onto his back with his hands cushioning his head, closes his eyes and listens harder, hears a burst of laughter from outside the packing shed. “Is that a good thing?”

 

“It’s peaceful. Harder to tell where things are, but I like it.”

 

The bee hives are close to the cherry grove, and the buzzing makes Foggy feel drowsy. “Mmmmm.” It’s warm, and he wants to enjoy this moment a little longer, pretend that Matt’s chosen to come because of _him_ , not his outstanding produce. He hears a rustle of grass then feels a touch on his elbow. He opens his eyes to see Matt right next to him, glasses missing. “Matt?” he asks, puzzled.

 

Matt smiles. “Ah, there you are.”  His hand moves up, tickling Foggy's side on the way, and cups Foggy’s cheek, then he leans in and kisses Foggy lightly on the lips. Foggy’s brain immediately relaxes into this wonderful dream, and he lets out a small sigh of pleasure. Matt chuckles, and kisses Foggy again.

 

Foggy frowns and moves one hand to Matt’s cheek, stroking his stubble. “Did I fall asleep?” Matt shakes his head, flicking the tip of his nose past Foggy’s.

 

“I don’t think so. I hope not.”

 

“So I’m awake right now?”

 

“Mmm-hmm.”

 

“Well, this is a nice surprise.”

 

“It can’t be a total surprise,” Matt frowns. It makes adorable little wrinkles appear between his eyes. “You did invite me to come here.”

 

“I thought that was for the cherries.”

 

“One of your many delicious wares, Mr. Nelson. Is there anything else you’d like to show me?” Matt actually has one eyebrow cocked.

 

Foggy is momentarily speechless. He clears his throat and squeaks, “Not in my family orchard, Mr. Murdock.”

 

“Pity.” Matt reaches over to the picking basket and plucks a cherry off the top. Slowly, he places it between his teeth, biting gently, and pulls off the stalk. He bites down a little harder, breaking the skin of the fruit. Then he leans forward, pressing his lips against Foggy’s. Juice runs into Foggy’s mouth, mixed with Matt’s musk, as he takes a small nip from the fruit. Matt pulls it back, taking the cherry away from Foggy, chewing then turning and spitting out the stone. He reaches over again and this time brings back a pair of cherries and dangles them in front of their faces. “Hungry?”

 

It's so ridiculous that Foggy should laugh, but instead he's enchanted. He eats a cherry, and Matt eats the other and smiles at him again. Foggy kisses the tip of his nose.

 

“Much as I'd like to lie here all day, we need to go. Theo's waiting for the delivery.”

 

Matt's face closes slightly, as if he's drawing back into himself. He nods and stands, brushing off his jeans, face tilted away from Foggy. Foggy stands as well, then steps in close but doesn't touch Matt. Matt goes very still, and Foggy can see his eyes darting about. His lips part as though he's about to speak but Foggy reaches one hand out to cover Matt's and Matt stays silent.

 

“Matt,” he says, then swallows. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight? At my place. I'll cook.”

 

Matt's face jerks up and Foggy is rewarded with the most brilliant smile he could imagine. His stomach starts doing honest-to-god somersaults. “I'd love to,” Matt replies, giving Foggy's hand a squeeze then releasing it to slip his glasses out of his pocket. “Let's get these cherries loaded."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please check out my other works.
> 
>  
> 
> I started a [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/runpogorun) so come and follow me!


End file.
